Musings

Let’s Talk About Terminology: Oral Sex For Ladies

Kate Sloan

(Blogger note: sorry for the dearth of sex toy reviews recently! I am waiting on a bunch of toy shipments at the moment. Don’t worry your pretty little head – I’ll be back to talking about dildos and vibrators on the regs in no time!)

There are so many ways in which misogyny manifests itself in our culture – ugh, so very many! – and language is definitely one of those. In fact, that’s one of the main reasons I decided to start this feature: to dissect sexist language conventions.

You can observe this shit in the different terms for oral sex performed on a man and on a woman. The gents have cool nouns like “blowjob,” “hummer,” and “brain.” They have great verb phrases like “sucking cock” and “giving head.” And there are specific terms for individual BJ techniques like “deepthroating” and “teabagging.” (By the way, if any of those look unfamiliar to you, get yo’ ass to Urban Dictionary, stat!)

What do we ladies have? Well, there’s the über-clinical “cunnilingus,” which is a fabulous word but not always practical in casual, heat-of-the-moment situations. There’s “eating pussy,” “eating out,” and “going down,” which are fine but sort of standard and boring (plus I really don’t like the word “eating” being used in sex terms unless there is actual eating involved). There are goofy slang terms that no one takes seriously, like “eating a box lunch” or “dining at the Y.” And as for non-clinical nouns, there isn’t a good one. “Tongue job” is the closest I’ve found, and I think it can be kind of hot in the right context, but mostly it’s still the sort of thing that elicits laughter rather than dirty thoughts.

So how do we remedy this slang situation? I propose a two-part plan…

First, reclaim non-gendered slang. I love the phrase “getting head” (or giving it) as a gender-neutral term for oral sex. There’s no reason why it ought to be gendered; oral sex, after all, involves somebody’s head and somebody’s genitals, regardless of whether those genitals are a penis or a vulva (or something in between!). Some people use “giving face” as the female equivalent of “giving head,” but whatever, bro. I don’t see why a distinction is necessary.

Second, make up your own slang terms and spread ‘em around. That’s what I try to do with “tongue job.” I’d love to hear your ideas for pussy-munchin’ vocabulary. In fact, I’d love to see the whole sex blogosphere agree on a few terms for cunnilingus and start propagating the hell out of them!

Photo credit: I can’t figure out who did the modifying, but it’s an altered version of this image from Comically Vintage!

Hot Tip: Enthusiastic Consent Isn’t That Hard

Kate Sloan

What with the barrage of rape cases flooding through our media outlets at the moment, a lot of people are talking about what it means to consent to sex.

You may have heard of one of the sex-positive responses to the question “How do I avoid raping someone?” – the idea of enthusiastic consent. In short, it means that no always means no, and only yes means yes.

Many of us have signed on to this agreement. I find it really sexy to imagine a world in which everyone “checks in” before progressing sexually. It’s hot to have sexy things done to me, but it’s even hotter (in my humble opinion) to have someone respect me enough to ask for permission first.

But, predictably, there has been a lot of pushback in the wake of this idea. “What, am I supposed to ask every time I do anything sexual?!” these protesters cry. “What if we’re already in a relationship and I know my partner’s body language well enough that I don’t have to ask?” And my favorite: “But asking for consent is so INCONVENIENT and AWKWARD and HARD!”

I’m not going to tell you how to negotiate consent within your own relationship, because obviously, that’s a personal thing. If your partner is really okay with you never explicitly asking for consent, that’s fine, as long as you still know you have to stop when you’re told to. But let’s get something straight: asking for consent does not have to be awkward or difficult.

You do not have to engineer a wordy question like, “Do you consent to me touching your vulva?” You can literally just say, “Is this okay?” or “Do you want me to stop?” or “Should I keep going?”

Some people have a Dominant/submissive relationship. Most people do not. And if you and your partner are equals in and out of the bedroom, acquiring verbal consent on a case-by-case basis really should not be a big deal. You respect your lover and you want them to feel free to express their feelings, right?

On the flipside, if you want your partner to ask for consent every time, that’s an absolutely fair request to make. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.

Our culture has a contempt toward consent. If this wasn’t the case, no one would be crying that asking for consent is “too much work.” Respecting your sexual partner’s body and mind is never “too much work,” and if you really feel that it is, you’re not ready to be in a sexual relationship.

Bonus reading:
• Shakesville: Today in Rape Culture
• Yes Means Yes
• Scarleteen discussion: enthusiastic consent
• Persephone Magazine: Why Do People Hate the Concept of Enthusiastic Consent?

Let’s Talk About Terminology: Vulva vs. Vagina

Kate Sloan

I am troubled by people who use words wrong. Especially when they do so in ways that actually impact the way people view the world. That’s why I’m launching this new feature, Let’s Talk About Terminology, to discuss sex-related terms: the right ones, the wrong ones, which is which, and why.

First up: female genitalia. Of course.

Let’s just ponder for a moment the way female genitals are viewed in our culture. They’re seen as a hole, both terrifying and enticing, through which one’s body emerged into the world and into which one wants to stick one’s dick. That’s an oversimplification, but I think it’s basically accurate.

The perception of female parts is focused around that hole – the vagina – and as a result, the entire vulva (a word which means the external female genitalia, including the clitoris, labia, mons pubis, and so on) is lumped into that name.

It may not seem like much, but it’s extremely denigrating to female sexuality. It defines our entire genital region in terms of the one part of it that is perceived as useful or desirable to our male-dominated culture.

You would never see someone use the word “balls” when they meant “penis,” or vice versa. It just doesn’t happen. Those are two specific and separate parts of that whole setup. And it ought to be the same with the female genitalia, but it isn’t.

The clitoris is an important, significant, distinct organ. The sensations it provides are different and separate from the sensations in one’s vagina. It deserves proper identification.

So I implore you: use these words correctly, and teach them to people who don’t know what they mean. Don’t let someone get away with saying they’re going to “shave their vagina” (oh, dear god, I hope not) or “lick your vagina” or whatever, unless that is what they actually, literally mean.

Vulva’s a much prettier word, anyway.

Sex Toys Are a “Real Thing” Too

Kate Sloan

The cultural narrative which claims sex toys are just a substitute for the “real thing” is bullshit, and I’m sick and tired of it.

Masturbation is every bit as “real” and legitimate as sex with a partner, regardless of whether you use your hands, toys, or any other implement to do it.

I am sick of men who think it’s somehow appropriate or clever to tell me I should set my sex toys aside in favor of their cocks. This is not only gross because they are strangers and I have a boyfriend, but also because – hello?! – it is grossly presumptuous and arrogant for anyone to claim that they would do a better job at pleasing me than my sex toys would.

Sure, I love having sex with my boyfriend. But, to be honest, my Pure Wand hits my G-spot better than his penis does. And you know what? That’s okay! He understands and accepts that. His penis does not have a deep curve and it is not made of steel – nor would I want it to be that way!

I reject the idea that masturbation has to be “practice” or some kind of consolation prize for sex with another person. Sure, some people look at it that way, and some people would always rather be having sex than masturbating – but to me, the two are very separate arenas of my sex life and I don’t view them as being connected or necessarily having anything to do with one another.

Masturbation fulfills different needs than partner sex does. If I want intimacy, surprise, excitement, interaction, or to lie back and do nothing while receiving pleasure, partner sex is the way to go. If I want the exact kind of stimulation that gets me off, or I don’t feel like focusing on anything but myself, or I want to take a longer or shorter time getting myself off than a partner would like, I masturbate.

When people (let’s face it – men, always men) tell me about their ambitions to “replace” my sex toys with their throbbing hard cocks, or whatever, not only is that laughably unarousing to me, but it also erases my basic agency in my own sexuality. It communicates that these men think my masturbation is an illegitimate expression of my sexuality, that I can’t possibly experience pleasure without a man, and that I am sexually incompetent even when I’m all alone.

It reminds me of the idea that women shouldn’t get “too dependent” on their vibrators, because it might make them unable to enjoy sex. Uh, what about women who – like me – routinely use vibrators during sex? What about women whose partners use vibrators on them? What about women who have tricky clits that practically never get off without the help of a vibrator, and never did?

I am bored of everything and anything that invalidates women’s sexual agency. It’s all a bunch of hogwash. Ladies, take back your sexual power and masturbate as much as you want, with whatever toys and tools you want, and don’t mind any men who want to tell you your masturbatory adventures pale in comparison to his cock. He doesn’t know what he’s talking about!

Has anyone ever tried to delegitimize your solo sex life? What happened? How did you respond?

Are You Shitting Properly?

Kate Sloan

I will warn you right now that this post is only minimally related to sex. For some of you, your butt is integral to your sex life; for others of you, the two barely register as connected. So this post is, as you might expect, for people of the former category.

I was recently made aware that I’ve been shitting wrong. I watched a video on the Squatty Potty, a stool (like, the furniture type of stool – not the fecal type!) that helps you align your body correctly for optimal elimination. The video, as it turns out, isn’t just marketing mumbo-jumbo – it’s actually based in fact. The human body is not designed to shit in an upright sitting position; we’re meant to shit while squatting.

The design of modern Western toilets was purportedly slapped together by dudes who had no knowledge of physiology, which explains why this design just doesn’t gel with our bodies’ natural inclinations. Our poorly-designed toilets make pooping a challenge for us, which can lead to problems like anal fissures and bowel cancer.

So how do you rectify (ha – rectum, rectify) this issue? Apparently one of the easiest and best ways to shit better (other than switching to a hole in the ground for your defecatory needs) is to put some kind of stool or box in front of your toilet, so that when you sit down, your feet are just a little bit below ass level. This allows you to simulate the squatting position, so your inner workings are properly supported and your shit comes out more easily and cleanly.

I’ve tried this a few times – you know, for science – and it really works. I’ve never particularly been a “problem shitter,” but it definitely feels a lot easier and, yeah, more natural when I prop up my feet with something 8-10 inches tall.

And we all know that shitting well is a great thing, if just because it allows you to use awesome butt toys more often.